


The Meaning of Family

by moonrunes



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Family Bonding, Gen, acclimating to having people who love you, letters and gifts and trips out
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:54:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27929323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonrunes/pseuds/moonrunes
Summary: It's a difficult thing, to adjust to suddenly having a whole lot of family when previously, all one had was their aunt and their homicidal older brother. Ruth adjusts. Holiday gift for @RuthAldine -- happy holidays!
Relationships: Irene Adler (X-Men)/Raven | Mystique, Ruth Aldine & Kurt Wagner, Ruth Aldine & Raven | Mystique, Ruth Aldine & Remy LeBeau, Ruth Aldine & Rogue (X-Men), Ruth Aldine & TJ Wagner, Ruth Aldine/David Haller (mentioned)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 9





	1. Change

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RuthAldine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RuthAldine/gifts).



Some students got mail every week, left at their doorsteps by whomever was passing out mail that month, slim envelopes whose contents ended up pinned over their desks. Other students got mail every month, big care packages from other states and even other countries, a little knocked around but no worse for wear, often shared excitedly with their squadmates and friends. 

Ruth typically didn’t get anything -- a byproduct of not having family on the outside like some of the others, with her aunt probably busy or unable to afford expensive gifts. It wasn’t lonely, given that there were other students who also didn’t get things, but she would be lying if she said she hadn’t wished for a package at least once.

_Be careful what you wish for,_ whispered caution in her head one morning, when Victor knocked at her door. She heard him smile when she opened the door, a real, genuine smile, even though her cane whacked him in the ankles.

“G’morning, Ruthie. Here, put out your hands.”

Ruth did as he asked, cautiously weighing the package in her hands. It was about the same size as her bigger textbooks, though much lighter, worn rectangular cardboard with ridges of stickers across the sides. “Who -- pardon -- is it from?”

“Uhh, it doesn’t say a name, but-” Victor gave a low whistle. “The return address is in _Italy._ Damn, is this the boyfriend Megan said you had?”

“Um. I -- sorry -- don’t know. Sorry.”

“‘S okay.” Victor didn’t seem bothered at all, patting Ruth’s elbow gently before she heard him moving away. “See you in class later!”

“Thank you, see you later.”

Ruth retreated back inside her room, running her hands over the packaging again. All the way from _Italy,_ except David had said that he would be in the Southwest states, not in Italy-

_Is it a bomb?_ she wondered, though she’d had no dreams about being blown apart. _Or something equally threatening?_

Her phone alarm went off and she jumped, nearly dropping the box. “English with Mr. Guthrie in five minutes.” 

“Yes, yes, thank you,” she muttered, fumbling for her phone. After a brief moment of deliberation, she shoved the package in her backpack along with her books and notes before grabbing her cane and setting off to class. If it was a bomb, well -- it would just have to wait.

~~~

Alisa frowned, phasing her hand through the box, and Ruth listened anxiously to the quiet _shhhh_ noises of her hand passing through it. “It doesn’t _feel_ like a bomb.”

“Aren’t you passing through it, so you don’t ‘feel’ it?”

“Things feel different sometimes, ‘s all. Like bombs are all metal and glass so they feel different -- or, I guess, more dense -- than other stuff, like... I dunno. Books?”

“So it’s a book?” Hisako asked, her desk squeaking, and Alisa _harumphed_. 

“Didn’t say that.”

“But it’s not -- sorry -- dangerous?” Ruth probed, and Alisa set it back on Ruth’s desk with a quiet _bmph_. 

“I don’t think so.”

“Can we be there when you open it, though?” Ruth smiled to hear the curiosity in Hisako’s voice, quickly covered with protectiveness as she added, “Just in case it _is_ dangerous.”

Before Ruth could assent, she heard someone clear his throat above them. Hisako sucked her breath through her teeth and from Alisa, Ruth heard the distinctive _pop_ that typically accompanied her whenever she disappeared all at once.

“Miss Tager, I know you’re still there.” Worse than angry, Mr. Guthrie sounded disappointed, and Ruth cringed. “I understand that your conversation is more interesting than 1984, but assuming the world will not end in the next half hour, would you mind postponing it until after class?”

“Sorry,” Ruth mumbled, and her friends echoed her to the sound of his sigh.

“Thank you. Remember, as we move forward in an increasingly technology-saturated society, it’s important to keep the warnings of dystopian fiction in mind…”

~~~

Growing up, Ruth hadn’t had many friends, and she found that (despite Hisako’s swearing at the uncooperative box), she enjoyed the camaraderie of sitting on the floor of her dorm room, each in their pajamas as they waited with anticipation to see the contents of the mysterious Italian box.

“There’s like, seventy layers of tape on this stupid box,” Hisako grunted. “Need fuckin’ adamantium claws for this -- aha!”

Ruth leaned forward despite herself, wondering at the rustling noises before Hisako pulled her hands forward, putting something cold and sinuous in her hands. She ran her fingers over it curiously, noting the little bumps and grooves, cocking her head to one side when Alisa gasped. 

“Oh my god. It’s beautiful!”

“Pardon?”

“It’s a necklace,” Hisako said helpfully, and Ruth thought if she had eyes, she’d roll them.

“It’s a chain with a really fancy looking pendant,” Alisa added, guiding Ruth’s fingers to the center. “There’s one big gem in the middle, do you feel it?”

Her fingers skated across the smoothness Alisa had led her to, an area about the size of her thumb and surrounded by tiny ridges (probably other gemstones, Ruth thought, judging by the way it felt under her hands), and Ruth suddenly related to whatever it was that had made Victor whistle that morning. 

“It came on one of those fancy velvet stands,” Hisako said, accompanied by more paper rustling as she presumably went through the rest of the box (for which Ruth was unexpectedly grateful for -- she felt dizzy upon being given a necklace probably worth more than the house she’d grown up in). “And there’s a _letter_.”

“Ooo! You know, I didn’t think this was David’s style, from what you’ve said, Ruthie.”

“Pardon? It’s not, really.”

“Aaaand the letter’s in Braille. Your fingers only, I guess.” Hisako handed the paper to Ruth and she tentatively ran her fingers over the bumps, frowning as she translated it in her head.

_Dear Ruth,_

_I had this made for you from an artifact I liberated recently. You need not worry about its origins, for I checked and made sure there were no curses, debts, or other nonsense attached to it. Prior to her loss of vision, Irene always said opals were her favorite -- while I don’t know if they’re yours, perhaps it will serve as yet another connecting point between you and her._

_Yours truly,_

_M_

“How mysterious,” Hisako remarked as Ruth recounted the contents of the letter. “Who was associated with an Irene who’s also associated with you, with the letter M in their name, who travels and quote-unquote ‘liberates’ various objects around the world?”

“I dunno, you’ll have to tell me.”

“Seriously?”

Alisa scoffed. “I spent, like, two years hiding in the walls of this stupid mansion, do you think I know who people are?”

“Who _people_ are, no. Who _Mystique_ is, _kinda_!”

“Oh, the blue lady with the skulls. I mean…”

Their argument faded into the background, Ruth’s blood roaring in her ears as she held the necklace close. By all accounts, Mystique was a cold-blooded murderer, the mercenary without mercy, a sometimes ally but never for long, someone that both of her children rejected time and time again -- and yet…

And yet, she had loved Irene.

Though Ruth couldn’t tell as to the _how_ , it seemed that Mystique had found out about Ruth’s connection to her deceased wife, and Ruth wasn’t sure how to feel about it. Neither set of grandparents had been present in her life before, and suddenly gaining an internationally wanted murderer as a maybe-grandmotherly-figure (great-grandmother? great-great-grandmother? How old was she, anyways?) was quite the revelation. 

“Ruth? Hey, Ruth?”

“Pardon?”

“Alisa’s all caught up on who your weird new grandma is, and it’s getting kinda late -- let’s clean up the package stuff and then we’ll go back to our dorms, okay?”

“Okay, thank you.”

Hisako handed her the velvet stand and Ruth set the necklace on it gently, pushing it to the back of her desk so it wouldn’t fall over and setting the letter next to it, just like the other students did with the gifts they got from their families. 

Alisa hugged Ruth tightly from behind, resting her chin on Ruth’s shoulder. “G’night, Ruthie. Sleep well, let us know if you have any prophetic dreams about futures we need to stop, okay?”

Ruth smiled at that, though she personally hoped for less of those dreams. “Of course, thank you. Goodnight.”

Hisako patted her shoulder and their footsteps moved away, the door closing behind them and leaving Ruth alone. The room felt suddenly huge and gaping, like the maw of a beast she couldn’t fight alone. 

But she wasn’t alone. Ruth smiled as she went to bed, leaving her blindfold on her nightstand and pulling the covers up over her head as she often did. Someone out there -- way, _way_ out there -- cared about her, perhaps all the more precious for how little she cared for everyone else. 

And though nothing had physically changed from that morning, it made all the difference.

~~~

It was two weeks before the next package, this one postmarked from Madripoor, larger and heavier than the last but more excitedly received. This time, Ruth asked Alisa to open it, listening with a smile as they described the contents to her, words overlapping and contradicting each other.

“It’s a _maneki-neko_ \-- I dunno what you Americans call it-”

“Lucky cat!”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess they’re pretty lucky…”

“Here, Ruth, feel it.” Alisa pressed it into her hands and Ruth took it gingerly, noting the chalky texture and where it turned smooth, little dots of paint to indicate eyes and nose and ears. She petted the cat between its ears as Alisa and Hisako continued through the box. 

“There’s a book -- also in Braille -- I’m putting it to your right, and another box…” Hisako trailed off, presumably examining the box closer, before Ruth felt a tap on her elbow. “Here, turn this.”

Alisa took the lucky cat as Ruth accepted the box, turning the handle carefully and listening to the tune it played. The notes were sad and hopeful at the same time, made more so by the speed at which she turned the lever, and Ruth felt a deep longing in her chest as the others fell silent to listen. Longing for what, she didn’t know -- but when the song repeated she took a shaky breath and realized that she wanted to cry.

“Wow.” 

Hisako to her right cleared her throat and sniffed, and Ruth heard the rustling as she went into the box again. “Here’s another letter, Ruth.” 

_Dear Ruth,_

_I was in Japan for business recently and found this at a shop in Kyoto. While I know there is often no reason for precognitives such as yourself to believe in luck, Irene often found at least a little bit of comfort in concepts such as the lucky cat. She once told me that, in this world we live in, she wouldn’t be surprised if there were little cats running around causing good._

_The book is one of various fairy tales and children’s stories that I’ve chosen and compiled. There is a CD in the back should you want to listen instead of read, though I don’t know if kids these days have portable CD players like the Walkmans when Rogue was young. Even if you don’t have a player, I’m sure, with all the resources available to the X-Men, that someone will be able to put the files on something you can utilize._

_The song on the music box was one performed by an orchestra that Irene and I saw many years ago. She often hummed it whenever she made tea or had free time on her hands, and so I would give the tune to you, too. Do with it what you will._

_Yours sincerely,_

_M_

“Am I supposed to be weirdly endeared by a mercenary sending you presents or freaked out?” Hisako asked, immediately followed by a _whap_ as Alisa shoved her.

“Endeared, of course. It’s nice that she cares about you, Ruthie.”

“Yes, thank you, pardon,” Ruth murmured, distracted. “It’s just -- sorry -- a little strange, pardon, don’t you think?”

“X-Men families are weird.” Rustling to her right told Ruth that Hisako was bundling the wrapping back up into the box to throw away, Alisa giving the cat back to Ruth and helping. “I mean, have you _met_ Scott Summers?”

Alisa snorted at that, but Hisako continued. “I’m just worried that Mystique’ll use you as a way in, you know? Like how Rogue sometimes talks about how she tried to get into the mansion by using her.”

“I don’t think she’d stoop that low,” Alisa began, but Ruth shrugged.

“I would hope -- pardon -- that she didn’t, but we _should_ stay alert, thank you.” 

“Yeah, exactly.”

Alisa sighed, scooting across the floor to throw away the box. “Wish we didn’t have to worry about stuff like that, y’know?”

“Yeah. But we do.”

They left soon after that and Ruth put the cat, the book, and the music box next to the velvet stand where the necklace still sat, unworn despite the fact that she checked to make sure it was there every morning without fail. It felt nice, to receive things from someone who loved her, even if she was starting to suspect that Mystique only loved the things that were similar to Irene in her.

Whatever the motivation, Ruth again went to bed with a smile, the little cat on her desk guarding her room, and for the first time in a very long time, she had no nightmares when she finally fell asleep. While it was nice to imagine a tiny cat hunting her nightmares away, Ruth had the feeling that it had more to do with a feeling of safety more than anything else.

~~~

A few more weeks passed, the leaves turning to fiery colors and falling to crunch satisfyingly under Ruth’s boots when she walked outside on the quad. With Alisa and Hisako both in classes, Ruth had decided to take her book outside, finding a bench in the cool shade of a tree, the sounds of the other students close enough should she need to call for help but far enough that she could focus on the tales Mystique had compiled for her.

Thrift shopping with Alisa and Hisako had turned up an old portable CD player at a wonderful price, with interesting little dents on the sides, and so she put an earbud in and pulled out the book, reading along to the narration. Everything around her seemed to fade away as the stories pulled her in, the narrators’ voices twisting around each other until it felt like it was happening before her, a stage play for an audience of one. 

So absorbed in the stories was she that Ruth hardly noticed when someone sat down beside her, only realizing when the other person sighed and she jumped. “Oh! Hello, pardon me. Who-”

“Just passing through.” The voice was both familiar and unfamiliar, a low, steady voice that made Ruth think of spiced tea and fire, though she was sure she’d never met this person before. “I was asked to deliver this to you.”

“Oh?” Ruth put her book and player aside, hands shaking as she accepted the box from the stranger. _Am I being threatened? Is this an attack?_

_If it was an attack, I would’ve seen it coming,_ she argued back, carefully unwrapping the layers of cardboard. The object inside was heavy, solid, metal and wood -- Ruth ran her fingers back and forth across it until she was absolutely sure what it was, and then-

“Is this a _knife_?”

“Dagger, actually. Knives are typically shorter and have only one cutting edge.” The stranger sounded absurdly pleased with themselves, and Ruth realized like a crack of lightning that it was the same voice as had the evil queen on the audio recording, the same tone and inflection as the hero, the same accent as the wise magician in the forest. “This dagger’s hilt is inlaid with lapis lazuli, a gem commonly associated with royalty.”

“I…”

“A girl should always have something to protect herself with.” Ruth heard a rustle as the stranger got up ( _Mystique? Is she Mystique?_ ), and she started when she felt a hand on her arm and a kiss on her forehead. “I hope you should never need to use it, but just in case. It’s a dangerous world out there, you know, and it’s good to be just a little bit dangerous yourself.”

Ruth opened her mouth to respond but she was gone, no trace of her left in the air or imprinted in the soft soil where she must have had to stand, the package on Ruth’s lap the only indication that she hadn’t been alone all along. 

“Ruth?” She turned when she heard Hisako, the sounds of her armor against the ground so much softer than normal footsteps (psychic sound absorption, she guessed -- for what other explanation would there be?). “They said that there was a perimeter breach, are you okay?”

“Yes, pardon, I’m okay, thank you,” Ruth said distractedly, putting the box and the dagger with her book and player ( _I’ll tell them about it later_ ). “Why…?”

“Don’t know. Apparently they didn’t even reach the main building, which ‘s why we’re checking the grounds.” Hisako was all business, probably scanning the area, though she did pat Ruth’s shoulder gently (sans armor, for which Ruth was grateful -- last time, Hisako had forgotten to armor off and had knocked Ruth across the room). “You should go inside, though.”

“Yes. Thank you, see you later.”

If she’d noticed the dagger, she hadn’t pressed it -- and as Ruth packed her bag and grabbed her cane, hurrying inside, she thought of the risk to Mystique’s safety, a fate she’d defied to give Ruth a gift.

Why?

_Because she’s an adrenaline junkie. Because she wanted to prove that she could. Because she had something else to do. Because the dagger hides an ulterior motive._

_Because I remind her of Irene._

Despite her doubts, Ruth found herself wanting to believe that there was more. Desire for familial connection, she thought, which Luca would probably think was stupid-

_Luca isn’t here. Do not let yourself be beholden to him,_ someone whispered in her head -- not a telepath, but almost an echo, a shadow of someone long since passed. _What do_ you _think?_

Ruth ascended the stairs to the dorm floor, unlocking the door and setting the dagger down on her desk next to the other gifts, the little things that she had not needed to send, that had (so far) served no purpose to her, that very well could have compromised her location. _I don’t know._

The shadow of Destiny sighed. _Don’t look ahead now -- let it come to you slowly. Someday remains someday and time breaks like waves on our shore. All in due time, child._

The echo faded and Ruth tucked the dagger into the belt of the uniform hanging in her closet, thinking again about Mystique’s words. _A little bit dangerous yourself._

The future came to her in a flash, the sight of a spurt of blood and the knife, buried to its hilt in someone’s (something?) shoulder, and she stumbled back, gasping for air. 

_Oh, God._

_Mystique, what have you done? What have you given me?_


	2. Kindness

When the knock came at her door, Ruth didn’t mean to jump _quite_ so high, though it was probably justified. The vision that came immediately after receiving the dagger had spooked her, especially after so long without a particularly nasty sight like that one, and it was all she could do to stop herself from carrying the dagger around with her everywhere “just in case.”

There were lots of things girls with blindfolds could get away with. Daggers in public places were not one of those things.

Another knock. Ruth steadied herself against the bedpost before she got up. “Yes, pardon, sorry?”

“Hello.” The person on the other side shifted, their coat rustling and the myriad of different things in their pockets clinking. “It’s Gambit, Ruth -- Remy.”

“Hello.”

“Me an’ a few others are going out for the day to enjoy the season while it lasts, ’fore it gets all cold and wet.” He shifted again. “Would you like to come?”

“Um. Yes, please, thank you, but -- pardon -- why are you asking me?”

“‘Cause you’re my niece. Or somethin’ like it, anyways-” Remy chuckled. “Married into a crazy family, I’ll tell you that, but niece is close enough for me. Grab a coat, it’s kinda chilly out.”

As it turned out, Remy’s definition of “kinda chilly” was “regular jacket weather” for Ruth, a fact that led to no small amount of lighthearted ribbing from the others coming along. One, a familiar voice -- Roxy, who’d she’d met in passing before but hadn’t really hung out with, even before everything happened, another a rough voice who introduced herself as Sarah, and the last someone she’d only heard of but who called herself Laura, not by her more well known codename.

“It’s a miracle you’ve survived this long in New York,” teased Laura, and Ruth heard her shove Remy and splashes as Remy regained his footing in the puddles from recent rain. 

“Good diet and proper clothing, petit.”

“Proper clothing? Do you also wear gloves in the summer?” Sarah laughed, and Roxy gasped so loudly Ruth guessed it had to be fake.

“That’s why you’re always wearing the long coat! See, I thought it would just be thermals under your uniform…”

“Roxy, aren’t you from California?”

“And?”

Their banter played so easily off each other, a verbal ping-pong that would not welcome another player, even if Ruth had felt so inclined as to try and join in (she didn’t -- Luca had made sure that she would always doubt herself in situations with other people). It was almost enough for her to regret coming along at all until someone came up beside her and took her elbow.

“Careful.” Roxy’s voice, Ruth realized. “There’s a step right here.”

She moved away without acknowledging that it had happened, and when Ruth opened her mouth to thank her, Remy unknowingly interrupted.

“We’re here! Isn’t it beautiful?”

“A museum?” Roxy sounded skeptical, and Sarah laughed. “You brought us to a museum on a weekend? Dude, I have a test on Monday.”

“Everything for a reason, petit. Let’s get our tickets, shall we?”

Ruth followed the sounds of the others’ footsteps cautiously, noting how Remy waited for them to go first before following behind, not minding how slowly she climbed the steps in comparison to Laura (first one at the top, not even winded even though she must have run).

Remy busied himself with getting the tickets while the four of them waited behind him, and Ruth took a deep breath. Someone came up on her left side and she tensed; but Laura only sneezed. 

"Smells old, huh?"

"Yes. Like -- pardon -- dust and bones."

"Mhm. And diorama glue." She sneezed again and Ruth smiled despite herself.

"Are you allergic?" Roxy asked, concerned, and Ruth heard Laura’s hair swish as she shook her head. 

“I don’t think so. It’s just -- ugh -- kinda strong.”

Ruth heard Remy come up behind them, herding them away from the sounds of the ticket desk, and Laura bumped her shoulder. 

“Do you want to hold on to my elbow?”

She felt herself blush. “Um. Yes, thank you, if that’s okay.”

Laura’s arm was very solid, muscles and faint ridges of scar tissue under wiry hair, and she kept her voice low as they passed the first set of exhibits. “On your right, there’s a set of dioramas about wetland animals that leads into a larger exhibit, but it looks like we’re passing that -- going up the stairs-”

“This is the Gugulski Hall of Gems,” Remy announced after they’d climbed the stairs. “The gems in this exhibit hail from every corner of the world, and many of them have minor curses and such to deter thieves.”

“Like you,” Roxy supplied.

“Like me.” Ruth could practically hear the sharpness of Remy’s grin. “But that ain’t never stopped me before.”

Laura and Ruth followed the others to the left, where Remy seemed to be holding court before the first exhibit. “This gem is called ‘L’étoile de la forêt,’ or the star of the forest. Normally, a deeper green is preferred for emeralds, but this one is more of an olive color, originally cut for the Queen of Madripoor way back when. Legend says she ran off with one of her handmaidens, cutting out and selling the gems in her crown to provide for her wife.”

“Wow.” Roxy sounded as if she was seriously considering a similar career choice. 

“The gem itself is protected by a Tanuki V19 security system, as are all the gems in the gallery. If you were to touch the glass, you might feel a faint hum -- it’s a modified motion detector, in that it keeps the glass vibrating at a certain speed not only to be able to tell when someone touches it and the vibration is disrupted, but also to deter anyone who might be able to phrase or work at superspeed.”

The rest of the museum passed similarly, Remy informing them of the security measures and the history of the pieces while the others chipped in with their own anecdotes -- Laura claiming that she met something like that “in the Savage Land,” or Roxy commenting that some furry creature looked a _lot_ like some nefarious invention of villain so-and-so, and as the day wore on, Ruth found herself smiling more and more. Sarah spent a little while standing in front of the ram diorama, while Remy insisted on taking a photo of Laura next to the wolverines and Roxy dragged Ruth over to the interactive exhibits on the lower floor.

“What does it feel like?” Roxy asked, guiding her hand to the panel, and Ruth frowned.

“Like -- pardon -- a bird? Feathery?”

“The description says that it’s a hypothetical dinosaur skin.”

“Oh, that’s -- yes, thank you -- cool!”

“Right?” Roxy linked arms with Ruth, the two of them walking slowly back to where the others promised to meet them. “Part of me wants to go to the Savage Land and the other part of me wants to like, not be dinner, yanno? Oh, that’s cool -- c’mere-”

Ruth felt herself being dragged to the left, ending up so close to a glass case that she felt her breath reflect back at her. At her side, Roxy read the little plaques out loud. “Sword of a Crusader, personal saber of a general -- ooo, Ruth, listen! ‘The dagger of Destiny.’”

She felt a cold chill down her back, like someone had slipped ice down the back of her shirt. “Pardon?”

“I know, right? Dramatic-ass name...oh, the hilt is ‘inlaid with lapis lazuli.’ Sexy.”

That was too big of a coincidence. 

Had Mystique stolen from a _museum_?

“‘This dagger was last used in the year 1496 in England, when wealthy heiress Isabella Ward used it to escape from her captors in her witch trial. It’s widely believed that she escaped England and traveled to the mainland, though her whereabouts after her escape have never been confirmed. Folklore claims that Isabella had known of her trial before it happened, hence her escape and her subsequent abandonment of the dagger, kept in a box under the floorboards of her house until its renovation in the early 1900s.’ Wow.”

Ruth jumped when Roxy bumped her shoulder playfully. “She’s kinda like you, huh? Except I feel like you’re not the kind of person to stab someone.”

“Yes, thank you, sorry, hopefully not.” 

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, sorry.”

“Alright.” Whatever Roxy thought, she didn’t press the issue, instead leading Ruth gently to the rendezvous point as if she’d never brought up the dagger at all. 

Ruth felt Remy touch the top of her head, counting them with a laugh. “Didn’t lose anyone? Good, let’s hit the gift shop and then head out.”

The others scattered into the bustle of the shop but Remy stayed at Ruth’s side, keeping pace with her as she carefully made her way around the perimeter. “What did you think of the museum, petit?”

“It was nice, thank you.” Ruth wondered what to tell him about the dagger, but before she could make up her mind, Remy guided her away from the wall. 

“Feel this, Ruth-”

Whatever he handed to her was _soft_ , with cloth wings and a pointy head, and Ruth snuggled it closer to her chest before reluctantly letting go and handing it back to him. “Thank you, but sorry, I don’t have money-”

Remy scoffed. “My treat, petit. More people should have…” He paused to read the tag. “Twelve inch plush pteranodon. Lovely.”

His generosity was kindness, unlooked for, enough to catch Ruth off guard and make her forget about the dagger just a bit away. “I -- you don’t have to, thank you, Mr. Lebeau-”

“I know I don’t have to. An’ you can call me Remy, if you’d like, or if Uncle is too much of a stretch.” He patted Ruth’s shoulder. “Now. Do you want the twelve inch plush pteranodon, or something else?”

~~~

Remy had insisted that it was too cold for ice cream but the others outvoted him, and so he’d “compromised” by buying them ice cream and getting a hot coffee for himself, sipping it loudly and pointedly from Ruth’s left. The others had their gift shop items and conversation topics, trading them amongst each other with an ease they included Ruth in, now, though no one pressured Ruth to give up her new pteranodon (for which she was grateful). The texture of the honey badger plush Laura had chosen for Gabby and the cuff that Roxy showed her was distracting enough that she didn’t think about the dagger until the mansion loomed large in her awareness.

The others said their thank yous and gave hugs and shoulder pats to each other before they scattered, taking their chatter and crinkly plastic bags with them, but Ruth hung back. 

“I -- thank you -- Mr.-”

The word felt strange in Ruth’s mouth, a hypothetical concept until this very moment. “Uncle. Thank you.” 

She heard him smile then, clear as day. “You’re very welcome, Ruth. Any time.”

Her room was just as she’d left it, though Ruth thought she felt different, and the airy feeling in her chest was enough to make her spin around and fall on her bed, holding her pteranodon close to her chest and giggling. 

“You have company now, thank you,” she told the bear on her bed. “See?”

No response from the bear, but she didn’t mind. Ruth held the pteranodon above her, pretending that she could see the light shining through its wings. “And what should your name be?”

Again, the vision came without preamble or warning. The dagger, the lapis lazuli hilt shining despite the blood coming from someone’s shoulder, no faces visible but a silver ring glinting on her hand.

Ruth gasped and recoiled on instinct, grateful that she had already been lying down, and her pteranodon fell and bounced off her face harmlessly.

“Maybe it’s time to -- pardon -- ask someone else about it,” she ventured as soon as her breathing steadied. “Maybe someone else will know?”

No response from either bear or pteranodon -- not that she’d expected one, but it would’ve been nice to have another opinion. 

A knock at the door. Ruth did her best to compose herself ( _don’t think about the dagger, don’t think about the dagger, don’t think about the dagger,_ ) before opening it. 

“Delivery!” Alani handed her a little box, smiling as she always did. “See you around, Ruth!”

“See you, thank you.”

Ruth opened the box carefully, tipping something heavy and cold into her hand before she found the accompanying letter. 

_You will need this soon._

_-I_

The cold chill came again, this time amplified by the object in her hand, the one that Ruth had hardly felt yet still knew what it was. She didn’t need to try the ring on to know that it would fit, but she did anyways, sliding it on her middle finger just as she’d seen. 

Perfect fit.

Ruth had the sensation suddenly of being a pawn in a much larger game, someone sending her here and there with their little objects, and it had the effect of making her feel both small and frustrated, knowing that she may not be in control of her own destiny.

“If I don’t wear the ring, do you think it will change?” she asked her audience.

Silence again, this time something she was grateful for. 

“That’s what I thought, thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! as always, leave a comment and/or come yell with me on tumblr @karmirage!


	3. Safety

_Dear Ruth,_

_I hope my sudden appearance the other day didn’t scare you or get you into trouble with your teachers. I do consider you my granddaughter, or perhaps as close as people like us can get to such a concept, and I do truly want what is best for you._

_With that in mind, it behooves me to inform you that recently, I have been tracking an old group that once made enemies out of Irene and I. I worry that they may target you or Rogue, and so I ask that you remain on the grounds of the mansion if at all possible. While, perhaps, not the safest place in the world, nor the most guarded, it is the most inconspicuous for you right now, and so I ask you remain there._

_The watch and this chocolate is Swiss. Swiss-made chocolate and watches are often hailed as the best in the world -- however, they also say that about Swiss safes, but I have not personally found that to be true. Despite that, I hope you enjoy them both._

_Yours sincerely,_

_M_

The watch now lived next to Ruth’s necklace, the letter with its fellows, and Ruth found herself laying on her back, hands pillowed beneath her head. As… _nice_ as it was for Mystique to worry about her wellbeing, Ruth knew it would ultimately be futile -- conflict would come whether she wanted it or not. 

Of course, with the future drawing ever nearer, it fractured in her mind’s eye -- kaleidoscopic and enormous, not only her own but the futures of everyone close to her. Futures where she died (Ruth found she didn’t care for those ones), futures where she lived but someone else died, futures where everyone was grievously wounded, futures where someone died for her, and through them all, no future where the coming conflict simply didn’t happen.

Someone knocked at her door and she sat upright, wishing she could get a _useful_ vision of the future (like knowing when someone was at the door) instead of jumping whenever anyone knocked. “Sorry, thank you, coming!”

“Hello, Ruth, may I talk to you?” On the other side of the door, Rogue didn’t sound mad, but when Ruth replayed it in her head before opening the door she became more and more convinced that Rogue really _was_ mad, and simply waiting to take it out on her. 

_Now would be a nice time to see what’s gonna happen._

Nothing happened.

_Gee, thanks, genetics._

Ruth wished she could see Rogue’s expression when she opened the door, the two of them standing in silence for exactly two seconds before Rogue said, “Are you all right?”

“What? Yes, thank you.”

“Alright.” She didn’t press it, but Ruth heard her shift her body weight, the floor creaking. “Well. I’m gonna either gonna go out thrifting or go train in the Danger Room, you wanna come?”

The real answer was “not really” but Ruth chewed her lip and thought about the stabbing someone vision and how it faded as it got closer, less and less likely. Stabbing someone else (possibly non-fatally) was infinitely preferable to someone else dying, and so she said, “Yes, please, thank you.”

“Sure thing. I’ll meet you down in the Room in five, okay?”

“Yes, thanks.”

Her uniform was the same as it always had been, supple and strong, still sleeveless despite how cold it got sometime in New York, and she touched the small of her back to make sure the dagger and its scabbard was still there (it was, to her infinite relief). 

There was no one at the entrance to the Danger Room and for a second, Ruth fidgeted at the door, wondering if she was at the wrong place at the wrong time before she heard footsteps coming up the hallway. “Good to see you here, Ruth.”

Rogue paused, the keypad beeping as she entered her ID, and Ruth almost missed her too-casual tone when she said, “So. What’s with the dagger?”

“Uh.” _Okay, saying that I got it from her mom sounds like a shitty joke._ “Pardon? Um. No...reason?”

Rogue sighed. “Fine, don’t tell me. But I do want you to know that you can tell me anything.”

_Including things about your super-wanted mom?_

“Yes. Thank you.”

“Alright. I assume you wanna know how to fight with the knife?”

“Dagger. Yes.”

Rogue made a noise of surprise, with amusement under it. “Dagger. Two edges?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Alright. I’m gonna have Danger generate a pair of wooden daggers, and I’ll show you how to use it, alright?”

~~~

The thrift store was full of interesting textures, smooth plates and cut crystal and patterned handles of silverware that Ruth let her fingers dance over. At her side, Rogue clicked her tongue at the shelves, occasionally pulling things down and asking Ruth’s opinion on them before either putting it in her basket or shelving it again. As nice as it was, it still felt as if they were dodging around the dagger-shaped elephant in the room, both extremely mindful of it despite the absence of the dagger itself.

“What do you think?” Rogue asked, passing Ruth a shallow little dish, and Ruth tilted her head to the side. 

“What is it for, pardon?”

“For Remy’s lil’ cats. I read that cats sometimes don’t like regular bowls ‘cause their whiskers brush the sides of the bowls and sends them into sensory overload, so I figure a dish like that would be better for them.”

“I like it. I think they would appreciate it,” Ruth ventured, handing it back, and she heard a _clink_ as Rogue set it in the basket. 

“It’s got a cute design on the bottom, too. Cats are gonna be eating better than us before long.”

Ruth giggled at that, following Rogue through the shelves, thankful that Rogue had offered her arm earlier to guide her through the maze of secondhand objects. The other shoppers were merely a buzz in the background, a pleasant everyday harmony, and Ruth found herself completely off guard for Rogue’s beeline to the racks.

“Oh, Ruth, you should try these on.” Rogue helped her regain her balance before tapping the back of her hand with the hanger, and Ruth felt the fabric cautiously -- the first, stretchy and soft, the other, a heavy leathery jacket. “Sorry, are you sure-”

“Never more. Well, about _this_ sort of thing, I mean.” Rogue dragged her presumably in the direction of the changing rooms, though Ruth could hear more clicking sounds from more hangers as she added to her stash on their way. “Here, here’s things to try on. I’ll be right outside, okay?”

“Okay.” Ruth heard the door close behind her, though Rogue’s footsteps didn’t move away, and Ruth thought it was nice to have her aunt (aunt? If Remy was uncle, she was aunt, right?) standing guard. 

The first hook Rogue had set up was the jacket and stretchy-soft something, and though it was a bit hard to figure out at first she eventually figured it out, spinning in the dressing room for a few seconds before she knocked at the door.

“Rogue? What does it -- pardon -- look like?”

“It looks _wonderful_ , sugar!” Ruth heard the dishes clink when Rogue put the basket down, taking both of Ruth’s hands in her own. “Here, go for a spin!”

Rogue laughed with her as Ruth spun, the dress flaring up around her knees though the jacket kept a steady weight on her shoulders, both women leaning against each other dizzily after a few seconds. 

“It looks wonderful, Ruth,” Rogue said again. “But how does it _feel_?”

“Good, thank you.”

“Lovely. Change back and I’ll get it for you.”

“Oh. Pardon, sorry, you don’t need to, it’s okay-”

“I know I don’t have to. I want to.” Rogue pushed her playfully back to the dressing room, the door closing behind her as she called, “And don’t forget to try on the others, see if you like those too!”

They left the thrift store with one water pitcher, three shallow dishes, two dresses, one jacket, two cardigans, three vases, and in Ruth’s case, a lighter heart than she’d had since the museum excursion with Remy a week or so ago. 

“This was fun, we ought to do this again sometime,” Rogue remarked, her arm wrapped securely around Ruth’s shoulders. “And I hope that you someday trust me enough to tell me what’s up with the dagger, okay?”

“Oh. Okay, thank you, sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry.”

“Oh. Okay. Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” Rogue squeezed Ruth’s shoulders, the car beeping as the trunk opened to admit their goods. “Now. I’m kinda hungry, what about you? What should we get to eat?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writing this was like pulling teeth <3 please leave a comment and/or hit me up @karmirage on tumblr!


	4. Acceptance

From her usual spot on the bench in the foyer, Ruth found that she could hear nearly every conversation in a fairly wide radius, so long as none of them were too loud or overpowering. Most days, it was a comfort, knowing that despite how alone she often felt, she never was but today it was a curse. She listened to the careless banters that the other students swapped, how easily they conversed with one another, and felt more alone than ever.

Finally, she couldn’t stand it anymore and headed outside, shivering when she felt the fall wind but unwilling to go back to her place -- and anyways, what else was there to do? Hisako was training in the Danger Room, Alisa was off with Kitty on some mission or other, and Ruth was well and truly alone.

A car door slammed in the distance and she turned towards it. Bags (canvas, not plastic) rustled, glass and plastic rattling around inside, and Ruth frowned. 

One set of footsteps, but it sounded like a _lot_ for just one person.

“Good morning, Ruth!” Even before the truth had come out about Irene and Ruth, Kurt had been kind to her, and so Ruth smiled when she replied. 

“Good morning, thank you. Do you -- pardon -- need any help with that?”

“How did you know?” He ceded bags to her and Ruth noted how he guided her up steps and down hallways with his tail, moving slowly enough for her to feel comfortable, never letting her stumble on the unknown. Kurt said hello to nearly everyone they passed along the way, often pausing for a few seconds in the middle of the hallway, so much so that Ruth stopped wondering about why he hadn’t simply teleported in from the car.

_He_ wants _to see them. Wants to say hi and talk about their days._

It was strangely alienating, a reaction Ruth immediately hated herself for -- what, was no one else allowed to be close to her maybe-kind-of uncle? Why was she jealous of how close they were to him, why did she feel cheated?

_How selfish of you,_ chuckled Luca’s voice in her head.

“You can set the bags down here,” Kurt instructed, guiding Ruth to the counter. “Be careful around the edge -- bumping it will bruise you and that is never pleasant.”

“Pardon, sorry, what are you making?” Ruth asked curiously, over the sound of bowls and cabinets opening and closing, and Kurt took her arm and put her hand on the bowl. 

“Vanillekipferl. A type of German cookie, just to stop myself from feeling homesick. Would you like to help?”

_Sure beats moping around and thinking about stabbing people visions all day._

“Yes, please, thank you.”

“As long as you don’t have any homework, of course.” Ruth guessed he was joking (at least, she hoped), and she listened to him unpack his groceries before he put a spatula in her hand. “Now. Here’s what we’ll do…”

Kurt measured the ingredients and set them aside for her to dump in the bowl, guiding her hands when she hesitated, and Ruth smiled as he told her stories about the other times he’d made this. The smell of vanilla hung in the kitchen, prompting more than one sudden visit from the other X-Men, and Ruth found that Kurt’s gregariousness extended even to unexpected visits.

It was incredible. It was enviable.

He put the bowl in the fridge and guided Ruth to one of the barstools at the counter. “Do you think it’s too early in the season for hot chocolate?” he asked, laughter in his voice. 

“No, not at all, thank you.” His laughter was infectious, and Ruth found herself smiling, too.

“Wonderful! I picked up mint chocolate, milk chocolate, and peanut butter cocoa powder. Which would you like?”

“Mint, please, thank you.”

“Milk, marshmallows, candy canes?”

“Yes, please.”

Ruth heard a pot clatter when Kurt set it on the stove, milk gurgling and splashing against the bottom. “I’ll make a little extra, just in case anyone else wanders by.”

“How do you do it?” Ruth asked before she could stop herself, so suddenly that it came out smoother than nearly everything else she tried to say. All other action in the kitchen stopped, as if Kurt was thinking about his reply.

“How do I do what?”

“Talk to people, sorry. How do people -- pardon -- like you?”

It was a few seconds before he responded, the snapping of the stove and the hissing of the gas filling the blanks. “Well, there’s no making it happen,” he said slowly, mugs clicking against the counter. “I think the best anyone can hope for is to put positivity into the world and hope that people respond. No one wants to be angry, or sad, or tired -- people will respond to happiness.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s all.” Again, she heard a smile in his voice. “How many marshmallows do you want?”

“I don’t know. Sorry.”

“That’s okay. They’re mini marshmallows, if that’s alright -- I’ve always thought that mini marshmallows are for hot chocolate, and their larger cousins are for s’mores, don’t you think?”

Ruth giggled. 

“However, unrelated to marshmallows, I do want you to know that you should not feel obligated to change.”

“Really?”

“ _Ja_. The right people will accept you for all that you are -- it’s just that being positive makes one easier to be around.” Kurt put an arm around Ruth’s shoulders and squeezed, a side hug that didn’t feel as awkward as when anyone else did it, if only because love and affection seemed to come naturally to him. “Just a bit of uncle-y advice.”

Something popped in near the stove and he dropped his arm with a gasp. “The milk!”

Though she knew she shouldn’t, Ruth couldn’t help but laugh. “Pardon, are you alright?”

“Yes, yes, quite fine. And some of the milk survived, at least.” Spoons clinked and plastic ripped, and Ruth heard Kurt set a mug down before her. “Be careful with the candy cane.”

She wrapped her hands around the mug, gently stirring it with the candy cane before taking a sip. It was almost hot enough to scald her tongue, the kind of warmth that spread from her throat through the rest of her body, and she relaxed with a sigh. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

Bereft of words, Ruth gestured around her, and Kurt laughed. “It was my pleasure.” 

~~~

“Pardon, is it burning?” Ruth asked with concern, sitting at the counter. “It smells like it’s burning.”

“It’s just the vanilla, don’t worry.” The oven door opened again and Kurt tutted. “Just a little longer.”

They spent the last few minutes in companionable silence before the timer went off, Kurt springing into action and pulling the cookies from the oven. “Do you have the powdered sugar ready?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Now, the problem with putting the powdered sugar on too soon is that sometimes it will melt into the surface,” Kurt lectured, the oven door closing again. “What we want to do is put it on immediately before we eat it, for maximum sugar covering.”

Ruth crunched through another bit of her candy cane while she waited, the sharp point melting to nothingness on her tongue, before finally Kurt set the cooling pan in front of her and said, “Go wild, _Nichte_.”

Post powdered sugar, the cookies were wonderful, enough to make her forget about her troubles right up until the alarm sounded and she tensed. “Kurt?”

“Stay here.” The levity in his voice was gone and Ruth smelled sulfur when he teleported, leaving her alone in the kitchen as the mansion shook with footsteps around her. For the first time, Ruth regretted not having Mystique’s dagger with her -- _what if it happens now? What if someone-_

A crash from the entrance into the kitchen and she flinched, the vision hitting her all at once, the future a few seconds in advance. A man in heavy armor, no one she recognized, with a gun and a baton advancing on her.

Ruth ducked, and the pan went flying, clattering against the wall as he drew the baton back again. “I’m only looking for our Destiny, girl,” he growled, and Ruth huddled behind the counter and tried to think, tried to breathe. “I won’t hurt you if you come with me.”

“Ruth!” Again, the smell of sulfur, steel hissing as it cut through the air, solid blows landing behind her until a body hit the ground beside her and she flinched.

“Ruth, are you okay?” Someone crouched in front of her, taking her hands gently, and Ruth nodded. 

“Yes, thank you, sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry, Ruth,” Rogue said from further away, footsteps light on the floor. “Nightcrawler, stay with her. I’m gonna go check on the others.”

“Of course.” Kurt’s swords made _shhhunk_ noises when he stowed them in their scabbards, but Ruth hardly noticed, turning and inching towards the body on the floor. Kurt shifted uncomfortably behind her. “Ruth, what are you doing?”

“Excuse me.”

Unconscious minds were far easier to probe, and though Ruth had tried to grow out of the habit of reading others’ minds, it still came easily to her, probing the soldier’s memory until she found what she was after, a revelation that made her jerk back in surprise.

Kurt caught her gently, setting her down on the floor again. “Ruth? Ruth-”

“I’m okay, thank you,” Ruth gasped, steadying herself on Kurt’s arm.

“What did you see?”

_What didn’t I see?_

“They’re not -- pardon -- trying to kill me,” she told Kurt, voice shaking. “They want to capture me to secure their future.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy new years!! joy and well wishes to you and yours in this coming year, and as always, come find me on tumblr @karmirage!


	5. Adventure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: someone dies in this chapter. It's fairly brutal. Also, I'm not certain if this counts as glorifying suicide but better safe than sorry, cause someone does die and it is framed as a "correct" choice, despite the fact that suicide isn't ever the correct choice (unless you happen to be a six hundred year old prisoner, I guess?). Also, this is a fictional property, where people regularly come back from the dead, which is even MORE of a reason to not take life cues from this fic. If you need help, seek it, and while I'm not the person to ask where to find this help, there are people out there who can. Stay alive, stick around, just to see what tomorrow brings. Love y'all.  
> also, this chapter doesn't really make sense. sorry about that

TJ’s hand felt like Kurt’s -- the same velvety texture, the same number of fingers, but distinctly unlike her dimensionally removed father, she pulled Ruth along as if they were walking a particularly determined dog together. Ruth had been dragged around more corners than she cared to recount, her arm yanked around until she was certain it would pop out of its socket from the strain. 

“Please slow down,” she panted, and TJ scoffed.

“I thought you said they wanted to kill you.”

“Kidnap me.”

“Same thing. We gotta move and get to them first.”

 _You’d think we’d want to go the other way,_ Ruth thought, but the weight of her ring and the dagger at the small of her back said otherwise. More than that, though, was the weight in her chest, a gravitational pull reeling her in towards the end.

TJ pulled her around another corner and crouched, forcing Ruth to crouch with her. “Okay. I think they’re in there.”

“Sorry, but how do you know?”

“Oh, I’m telepathic.”

“Really?” Ruth wondered what else she didn’t know about her sort of cousin from another dimension but didn’t get a chance to ask before TJ shoved her against a brick wall with a “shhhhh.” 

“There are people,” she whispered. “It’s...are they operating out of an apartment?”

“Yes.” For some reason, this wasn’t a surprise. “Pardon, but you can’t teleport, can you?”

“Even if I could, not at this distance.”

Ruth could feel TJ’s eyes on her, the question about the other X-Men lingering in the air between them, but she ignored it. _Why not bring the other X-Men? Well, I don’t want them to die, so…_ There was no concise way of saying that, no fast explanation that would leave everyone satisfied and focused, and so instead she stood, straightening her jacket.

TJ grabbed her sleeve and tried to pull her back down again. “What are you _doing_?”

“I’m going to knock, thank you,” Ruth said with more confidence than she felt. “Unless you -- pardon -- have a better idea?”

She secretly hoped that TJ did have a better idea, that there was something the Exiles did that would’ve prepared her better for the situation at hand, but TJ only sighed and took Ruth’s arm, steering her across the street and to the door.

“This is a terrible idea.”

“Thank you, yes.”

Ruth knocked and the vision in her head burst, sending possibilities rocketing through her neural pathways. She gasped and stumbled against TJ, grabbing her arm much too hard, but TJ didn’t protest.

“Ruth? Blindfold? What’s wrong, what is it?”

Ruth opened her mouth to reply ( _why can’t I see who I’m stabbing, why can’t I see their face_ ) but before she could, the door squeaked, heavy footsteps on the other side coming to a stop.

“Well.”

“Hello. I’m here to see Ms Ward, if you please, thank you.”

“Of course, Ms. Aldine.”

“I thought you said they wanted to kidnap you,” TJ muttered out of the corner of her mouth as the man (yes, a man -- Ruth saw him as the future grew closer, a man built like a mountain) herded them down the hallway. “This is a welcoming party.”

“Not a party, sorry. Not a welcome, either.”

The hallway opened up into a larger room with more people in it, the sound of their footsteps and their breathing echoing in Ruth’s ears. TJ pulled her closer protectively, her tail curling around Ruth’s other side, and Ruth wanted to tell her not to worry.

“Hello, Ruth.”

Duct tape creaked and Ruth took a deep breath. “Hello, Ms. Ward.”

“Please. Call me Isabella.” 

Ruth shuffled forward until TJ guided her towards a bench, where she sat facing Isabella and, presumably, the rest of her weird culty friends. “Thank you, Isabella. How are you?”

She gave a raspy laugh. “Old. Even now.”

“Never could have guessed,” TJ muttered and Ruth elbowed her.

“How did you figure it out?” Isabella asked, and Ruth shrugged.

“Your -- pardon -- operative. I read his mind, I saw that your followers -- thank you -- were obsessed with the future and knowing it. Sorry.”

“What for? I assume you also saw the bit about their continued preservation of me in order to know their future continuously.”

 _No?_

“Yes.”

“Perfect.” Isabella coughed. “Six hundred years is a long time to keep anyone alive. Do you want to know how they did it?”

 _Kind of._

“Not really.”

“Well, too bad. You’re going to learn.” Isabella coughed again. “You know of the magics in our world.”

_Unfortunately, yes._

“Yes.”

“Good. This spell is one that allows me to keep my mind -- memories, thoughts, everything that makes me _me_ \-- intact, but my...gifts do not travel with me, meaning that I require another precognitive for my host body every hundred years or so.”

“No one has noticed.”

“Dear, there are more of us than anyone thinks there are.” She shifted and her clothes rustled, the tape creaking, and Ruth tilted her head.

“Why are you taped to the chair?”

“Oh, this body had a rebellious phrase. Poor little Ginny Snow did not learn quickly enough that the wisdom of her elders far outweighs her telepathic strength.”

_Ruth._

_Hello?_

“You are a special case, dear. Not only precognitive, but the descendant of Irene Adler -- precognatively, that doesn’t make you royalty, but it does make you worth having on someone’s team.”

_Ruth, help me._

The voice wasn’t TJ’s, for sure -- two voices layered into one, singing like a chorus in her head. 

_Ruth, I’m taped to the chair because it’s been six hundred years._

“And so, my followers went to find you to ensure the safety and continued future of them, and their children, and their children’s children, as they have been doing for centuries.”

_Being a precognitive means playing the long game. Snowfall gave me telepathy to reach out, to get my old dagger to Mystique to give to you, my ring to you-_

_Why? I don’t want to kill you. Please don’t make me kill you._

“Now. Please, give me the ring.”

“Over my dead body!” TJ jerked away from Ruth and, judging from the shouting, had started a fight. Ruth rushed forward before anyone could stop her, tripping over something and falling in front of Isabella’s chair.

“Please don’t make me kill you, Ms. Ward. I’m sorry, but please.”

_Dear girl. What on earth are you talking about?_

“The vision. I saw my hand with the dagger and the ring.” Ruth held up her hand to show her.

_The future can be misleading until it’s right in front of you. Cut me free, will you please?_

Ruth did as she asked, the dagger slicing through duct tape better than scissors ever could. The hand she felt guiding her was light, fragile, as if she was just gauze pulled over bones, and Ruth wondered again at the lengths these people went to to guard their future.

_Thank you. Now, the dagger, please._

“No. There has to be another way, one where no one dies,” Ruth protested, hugging the dagger close to her chest, and she heard Isabella sigh.

“Children these days. You’re all so obsessed with death. Give me the dagger, Ruth.”

“No.”

“Ruth.”

“Hey!” Ruth recognized the voice. The mountain man from the door, behind her, boots coming towards her and she turned, bracing herself for whatever he was about to do.

And behind her, Isabella seized her wrist with surprising strength, directing Ruth’s arm til she’d driven the dagger through cloth and skin, fat and flesh and bone.

Ruth screamed at the feeling of sickly warm blood, immediately reeling back as she _felt_ the future come to life around her. Around her, bodies thudded as they hit the floor, but for once Ruth couldn’t bring herself to care.

“Hey, hey, Ruth-” TJ hugged her tightly, her shirt ripped from the fight, and Ruth found herself sobbing into her cousin’s chest, no tears forthcoming but the emotion overloading her brain.

“I didn’t want to kill her!” she cried. “Why couldn’t she -- _hiccup_ \-- find another way?”

 _That was the way._

So surprising was the voice that Ruth abruptly stopped crying, and with the way TJ had suddenly gone stiff, Ruth guessed she’d heard it too.

“Beg your pardon?”

 _That was the way._ Just as before, just like Irene, Ruth felt someone at her side -- two of them, one just a girl with snow-white hair and the other, an elderly woman with a smile as bright as the sun. _Now, don’t go trying that at home, dear, but I had to free Ginny somehow._

 _And I put the others in a coma. When they wake up, they will remember this, but not you._ Ginny laughed, musical even without being physical. _I don’t know if we’re dead, though._

_Curses and magic. You know how they can be._

“Yeah, sounds about right.” Ruth could practically hear TJ rolling her eyes at her side. 

_I wasn’t lying when I said you were special, Ruth._ Isabella drew closer to her, a hint of a weight on her shoulder. _You keep at those gifts of yours, hm? Make us proud?_

“Yes, Isabella.”

 _Good. And, Talia Josephine, I’d recommend that you look into your mother’s side of the family._ There was amusement in Isabella’s voice, more than there should be for someone so recently deceased, Ruth thought. _There’s more to find there than you might think._

“Cool.”

_Bye._

_Goodbye, dears. Thank you._

Ruth let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding and just like that, they were gone, leaving her and TJ the last mutants standing in a room full of snoring cultists. They stood in silence for a few moments before TJ shifted.

“So. That was weird. Wanna hit the Farmer’s Market before they close?”

“Yes, please.”

“Nice. Let’s get out of here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, leave a comment and/or come talk to me @karmirage on tumblr! sorry for the lack of updates, also -- my school year just started back up again. hope you and yours are safe.  
> Ginny Snow is a telepathic/precog from 1979, from Captain America #238. She's presumed dead by the next issue, which makes her perfect for a random fic about a teenage precog.


End file.
